Love, Your Baby's Boy
by Rachel Erica
Summary: Michelangelo, craving a grandmother's presence mixed with a desire to reunite his father with his own mother, goes on a secret cyber hunt, with the help of April, to find his long lost grandmother, Hamoto Sayuri. How can he reunite their family without risking rejection? Will she recognize her son and accept them as her family?
1. Prologue

**New plot bunnies! Yay! I had to start this little number, hoping maybe it will get my creative juices flowing again and I can work on my other three stories (100 Themes Challenge- Turtle Tot Edition, Shredded Past Shredded Future, and Life or Betrayal). **

**Important Note: This is NOT a Human AU. It's not even an AU. Mikey just changed somethings in his letters because, well, he's not gonna come right out and say they're mutants.**

* * *

_Dear Sayuri,_

_ In 1996, a 26-year-old man named Hamato Yoshi and his beloved wife had a beautiful baby girl. They named her Miwa. They were the happiest little family you'd ever see, but someone, a bitter soul, sought to take what was rightfully Yoshi's. Envy and bitterness consumed this soul and before Miwa turned one year, her parents perished and she disappeared at the hands of a monster._

_ A man came to reconstruct his life in a place called New York City. He lived a lonely life in a tiny apartment and taught martial arts just to barely get by. To ease his loneliness, he adopted four baby boys, all brothers, the youngest no older than 5 months old. Their names were Leonardo Osamu, Raphael Mamoru, Donatello Toshio, and Michelangelo Hiroyuki. He protected these boys like priceless jewels and taught them to effectively defend themselves. He even found a new, better job so he could work from home and home-school them. For fifteen years, he taught them, fed them, protected them, and cared for them, giving them support that only a loving parent could. Now one of his boys wants him to have the same like he ought to still have. _

_ My name is Hamato Hiroyuki Michelangelo and I'm 15 years old, but everyone calls me Mikey. I am your youngest grandson. I'm thrilled to have found you and would really love to get to know you. Yoshi, or pop, is doing well here in America, but I know he misses you. He has told us countless stories of our soba; how beautiful and warm you are. I hope to hear back from you, and I love you._

_Love,_

_Hamato Michelangelo_

_P.S. Can I call you baa-baa? :)_

* * *

**This will be a multi-chapter fic by the way. This is just the prologue to get started. Please review!**


	2. Hockey Rink Violence

Back and fourth, high creak, then low creak; the tire swing Michelangelo lounged on lazily played a monotonous tune in his idle ears. Raphael and Casey yelling at the hockey game on their twenty-inch, low definition television, he payed no mind to, for it had become as common a sound in their home over the past few weeks as the sound of water running through the pipes all around. Only one time Casey used their television to check the score on an NHL hockey game, and instantly Raph was hooked and the two found yet another common interest.

Mikey couldn't deny to himself that he was envious, but he wasn't sure of who he was more envious of. Just like Donnie identified well with April, and Leo, in some twisted way, identified with Karai, Raph had found a kindred spirit in Casey. Mikey, much to his own humiliation, thought he had found that before, but that person turned out to be using him and is now, as fate would have it, one of his worst enemies.

Then there was Casey, the fun and charming dude who swooped in and stole his best buddy. He and Raph had been so close, like best friends, before Casey showed up one day and occupied most of his free time. It certainly didn't make it any easier on him that Raph wasn't willing to share his new companion with his annoying little brother. On numerous occasions, Mikey had tried to join in on their video game sessions, patrolling or 'head bashing', and even watching their hockey games, but each time, he either found himself completely ignored or picked at and humiliated by Raph. Both outcomes were equally unpleasant.

Trying to jump in with April and Donnie was no jackpot either. April on her own with Mikey was sweet and nice to hang out with, but with Donnie, she could be almost as difficult as Raph and Casey. She and Donnie would get into their smart 'sciencey' talk that Mikey could barely understand and if ever he made an attempt to avert the conversation to a topic he could identify with, it was never to any avail. And forget asking them to explain or let him in on something. That always very blatantly grated on their nerves. Donnie, and even April, believe it or not could be just as condescending as Raph.

Never mind hanging out with Leo. Leo was almost always in the dojo with Splinter and most of what they talked about (if they even spoke at all), was Leo developing and growing as a leader. The only time he would really be acknowledged was if Splinter was telling him how he could learn from his 'perfect' older brother and how he needed to improve his ninjitsu and meditative skills. That got old really fast.

With April out of town all week visiting her grandmother, Mikey had hoped that would free up some of Donnie's time and allow the two to bond the way they used to, but there was no such luck. Donnie stayed locked up in his lab all day missing April and working on anything to keep his mind off of her. He had expressed anything but a desire to hang out with his little brother. That much he made quite clear by going to the extent to lock his lab door in spite of Splinter's strict rules about locking doors.

That left Mikey with only his beloved tire swing and his comics that he'd read countless times to entertain him. Well, except for the few that he ruined on the occasions where he fell asleep on the tire swing and dropped them in the sewer water beneath him. He had been warned both by Donnie and Splinter not to fall asleep on there. By Donnie after he fell asleep playing games on his T-Phone and dropped it in the water, and by Splinter after he'd woken up numerous times with an aching neck from sleeping with his head hanging at an ungodly position.

He begrudging heeded these warnings and drug himself from the swing to have his feet met with the chilly, uninviting shallow water. Nonetheless, he drug his feet forward and stepped out of the water.

Raph's gaze left the television screen to shoot a slightly annoyed glance in Mikey's direction.

"What are you doing?" he grouched. "Did you go for a swim by yourself?"

Mikey yawned. "No dude. I've been lying on the swing for the last hour or so."

Raph's gaze transformed to a glare. "Lose your attitude, Mike. I was just asking a question!"

Mikey stopped beside their giant couch and looked puzzled.

"I didn't have an attitude," he mumbled. "I was answering your question."

Raph stood up abruptly and pointed an accusatory finger his way.

"There you go again! What is your problem?!"

Mikey could have sworn he heard Casey sigh at the meaningless outburst.

"Casey, dude, did I have an attitude just now?" he asked.

Casey didn't even peel his eyes away from the screen before he haphazardly replied, "I'm not in this."

Mikey sighed. "Whatever. I'm tired. I'm going to lie down."

"Good," Raph sneered and plopped back down beside Casey. "Get the hell out of here, you grouch."

Mikey felt his blood pressure spike and an overwhelming urge to bite back, but he tried to swallowed it. He'd learned the hard way far too many times that with Raphael, once he stops, it's in your best interest to stop too. Too many times he'd found himself raging back and forth with his second oldest brother until he realized he had forgotten what they were even fighting about in the first place, by which point he was so furious, he didn't care. He just knew he wanted the last word, but there was no "last word" with Raph. Unless those last words are the last thing you utter before you're knocked out.

"You're the grouch..." the words were mumbled as they somehow slipped from his tongue anyway. Immediately, he hoped his brother hadn't heard it.

"What was that?" Raph challenged. He was back on his feet and stomping in Mikey's direction in an instant. He didn't stop until his chest plates brushed Mikey's bicep. "You wanna run that by me again, tough guy?"

"Dude, just come back and watch the game," Casey piped up. "The guy just wants to go lay down."

Raph pushed closer to Mikey, so close Mikey could feel his hot, angry breaths steaming up the back of his neck. His jaw clenched with frustration; why did his brother have to power trip on him like this? What made Raph feel that he was entitled to utmost respect from his youngest brother? It's like he thought he was his father, and if there was one thing Mikey hated, it was being treated like a child by his brothers.

"No, no," Raph replied to Casey, but spoke directly into Mikey's ear, "he wants to act big, he better back it up." He shoved at Mikey's shoulder for emphasis. "Come on, you wanna be a bad ass? Do something, bitch."

Mikey's face turned red with every mocking word growled into his ear. He had no doubt that Raph could tell and was building himself up on his reaction. He knew Mikey would back down. Countedon it, in fact. Once again, he was acting like a tough guy for his new buddy all the while making his youngest brother look like a big wuss in front of their newest friend. The fact that he knew Raph relished his degradation, took pleasure in his misfortune, and saw it as a reminder that he was superior, was enough to make Mikey's rapidly heating fury boil over. How dare he put him down just to build himself up.

One more shove was enough to blow his lid off. Before Raph could hover over him again, Mikey came back and hooked him square on his cheek.

Raph stumbled back and held his face.

Mikey's overwhelming anger immediately flushed and he paled at what he had done. Justified or not, he was a dead turtle. He had just poked an angry tiger and he was certain to get mauled.

As if in slow motion, Raph's eyes turned white with fury and his lip curled into a snarl.

"R-Raph..." Mikey stammered. "I-I'm so s-sorry, dude, I..."

Raph lunged and Mikey flinched, but no pain came. He dared open his eyes and saw Casey holding back his raging brother.

"Come on, Raph, don't do this, man!" He warned.

"I'm gonna kill you, you little bitch!"

Casey struggled to keep his grip on the shorter, but much larger male.

"Run, Mike!"

Mikey hesitated, but knew he'd be crazy not to run for cover at this point. He scampered away like a frightened dog and burst through his bedroom door. For once he locked it behind him, knowing Raph wouldn't hesitate to burst through it if it weren't.

He sat on his bed and took a deep breath, but found it difficult when he realized a lump was forming in his throat.

"_No_," he told himself, "_you're not gonna cry. Don't be a baby._"

_BANG BANG BANG!_

"Mikey!" Raph roared on the other side of his heavy door. "Get out here! Come on, you want a fight, I'll give you one you'll never forget! Come out here so I can tear you out of your shell!"

"Raph, stop!" Casey shouted over him. "Come on, dude, let's just go back to the game! Let your brother be!"

_BANG BANG BANG!_

"MIKEY! I know you can hear me, you little coward! Get the hell out here and face me like a big boy!"

"Don't do this, man," he heard Casey warn. "You're gonna hate yourself later!"

Mikey felt his eyes tearing up, but he continued to fight it back. His friends and his brothers already thought he was a wuss, he could never prove them wrong if he cried at this point.

"THAT'S IT!"

"Dude, NO!"

One last ear-shattering slam and the door was knocked loose on it's hinges.

Mikey could hear his heart pounding in his ears and he tensed up, his body readying itself to fight, however reluctantly.

Raph violently jiggled the loosened door until it creaked open and he burst in, mouth frothing as he scanned the room for a millisecond, searching out his prey. There it sat on the bed, trying to hide his quivers and replace them with a weak look of anger. Raph lunged.

Mikey tried to duck out of the way, but before he could even get to his feet, Raph had jerked him off of the bed by his arm, causing him to loose his balance and fall to his knees in a pitiful heap.

Mikey lifted his head slightly only to have his beak met with Raph's padded knee. Padding or bare, it was enough to disorient him and bust his nose. Mikey watched dark droplets of blood leak on his hands planted on the rug. One was moved as Raph jerked him by one arm and pulled him to his feet.

A heavy blow went to his shelled stomach and back down toward the floor he went.

"Raph! Stop, man! He's had enough!" Casey shouted.

Mikey coughed and gagged, just to have the wind knocked out of him again as Raph smacked his carapace and knocked him flat on his stomach.

He thought about retreating into his shell, but as if Raph had channeled this thought, he pressed his forearm to the back of Mikey's neck, making certain he couldn't pull himself up or escape. With his other arm, he took Mikey's left, twisted it, and pinned it behind him.

"Say, 'I'm a bitch!'," Raph snarled. "I wanna hear you say it!"

Casey pulled desperately at Raph's shell. "Enough, man! You're gonna kill the poor guy!"

Raph twisted Mikey's arm a little further, earning a pained yelp from beneath him.

"Say it, Mikey!" He screamed. "Say 'I'm a bitch and that's all I'll ever be!'"

"NO!" Mikey cried out. "Why are you doing this, Raph?! Stop!"

"Say it or you're dead!"

Casey ran from the room to find some back up as soon as possible.

"LEO! DON! MASTER SPLINTER! HELP!"

Mikey finally released a few tears. "No! I won't!"

Raph twisted his arm again, but this time much harder and much farther.

_SNAP!_

Too far. Once Raph heard that sickening snap, it was somehow enough to bring him back down to earth and out of his seething rage.

A deafening, primal scream rang out and seemed to shake the entire sewer system.

Raph released the shattered arm in his grasp and hopped off of Mikey with urgency.

Mikey rolled himself over onto his back and held his arm, bawling.

"Oh g-god, you br-roke my a-arm, dude!"

Through his tears, he watched the guilty, almost fearful expression creep across Raph's face, but he was pushed out of the way and his image replaced by the blurry image of his father bursting into the room and kneeling down beside him. He was immediately followed by two familiar green figures he knew to be his other two brothers.

"What happened?" Leonardo asked in a near shout. "Raph, what did you do to him?"

Mikey hadn't realized it, but he'd been screaming. Screaming like that of a badly wounded small child. He felt ashamed and tried to suppress the screams, but it was no use. They came out of him as if he had thrown them up.

"Hamato Raphael, what is the matter with you?!" he heard Splinter shout. "What have you done to him?!"

"I didn't..." Raph stammered. "H-he...I-I...w-we..."

"I don't want to hear it! Go to your room! Get out of my sight!"

In an instant, Raph was gone from the scene.

Splinter, Donnie, and Leo carefully aided Mikey up to his feet and then sat him down on his bed.

"Let me see your arm, my son." Splinter gingerly pulled Mikey's arm away from his plastron. It was rapidly swelling and he could see a lump where the bone in his forearm had broken.

He shook his head and sighed. "Oh Michelangelo, what are we going to do with your brother?"

* * *

**Special thanks to SleepingSeeker and BubblyShell22 for encouraging me to make this little plot bunny into a story. **

**I know this probably seems a little mean even for Raph (especially 2k12 Raph who, if you'll notice, actually isn't as mean as other Raph reincarnations), but just think of him as compensating so as not to be made a fool of in front of his new best friend. **

**Anyway, next chapter, April's coming home!**


	3. The Question of Discipline

Donatello sighed gently, though exasperated.

"Mikey, keep the icepack on your nose," he persisted and took the pack of ice off of Mikey's lap where it had dropped to for the umpteenth time. He pressed it to his stubborn little brother's beak until his own free hand came up to accept it and hold it in place.

"Is it broken?" he mumbled.

Donnie continued to press the larger icepack to Mikey's injured arm where he kept his concentrated gaze fixed.

"No, it's not broken. I just need you to keep the icepack on your nose to help keep the swelling down," he explained.

Mikey shook his head. "No, dude, I mean my arm."

Donnie cringed. "Uh...yeah, buddy, it's broken."

"Of course," Mikey groaned.

Donnie pulled the icepack up from Mikey's arm to check the progress of the reduced swelling. There was hardly any; he knew they could be there a while. Perfect. Nothing was more difficult than trying to do a medical procedure on a fidgety Michelangelo, and the longer he had to force him to sit still on that lab table, the worse he was going to get. He looked up from the injured arm and briefly around the room for something to keep the energetic turtle busy. When he found nothing, he thought he'd attempt his next idea.

"So," he began, "care to explain the cause to this particular effect?"

Mikey pulled the ice away from his face and stared blankly at him.

Donnie sighed. "What _happened_?"

The blank look on Mikey's face turned to one of regret. He dropped his gaze to his lap.

"I hit him," he mumbled.

Donnie blinked.

"You hit him? You hit _Raph_?"

Mikey nodded.

Donnie, in spite of his brilliant mind, could barely fathom a situation in which his younger brother would strike one of them in a violent manner. Mikey, even when they were only small children, had seldom ever been one to even raise his voice to someone, let alone his hand, except for in those rare circumstances when he was pushed too far, and Raphael had a knack for bringing on those rare occurrences.

"Why'd you do that?"

Mikey did not answer at first. Donnie looked up from his arm to glance at his face to be sure that he had even heard him.

"He just..." Mikey shook his head. In retrospect, his reaction to Raphael's bullying was irrational and probably unjustified. He was ashamed. Ironically, to him, trying to avoid shame was what brought him to strike Raph in the first place. It was as if he was trapped, destined just to be ashamed. He sighed. "He got in my face."

Donnie eyed him incredulously. "Well, that definitely sounds like Raph," he sighed, "especially recently, but that doesn't sound like you. What did he do? Did he say something? Did he hit you first?"

"No, he didn't hit me." Mikey stopped, hoping Donnie would allow the subject to drop.

Donnie stood up from his chair and pulled open a drawer below the table to obtain a roll of gauze. Much to Mikey's dismay, he was still expecting an elaboration if his once again expectant glance was any indication.

"I don't really remember how it went down. I just remember he was yelling at me, I made, like, one smart remark, and the next thing I knew he was all in my face, telling me to do something...and I did. I punched him."

Donnie smirked. "Damn. Go, Mikey."

The slightest boost of confidence came over Mikey from the unexpected support.

"Well, he was making me look stupid, you know? He pushes me around and expects me not to do anything."

Donnie nodded. "I understand, buddy. You know how many times he's tried to make me look like a fool in front of April?" He chuckled. "I should have punched him too."

Mikey felt his blood pressure rising again.

"I mean, he can beat on me and get in my face and talk to me however he wants, but God forbid I do the same thing to him when he's _asking _for it," he ranted on.

"Yeah, I hear you, Mikey." Donnie returned to securing the icepack against his arm.

Mikey groaned. "He can step on my toes all the time, and just because he overreacts, I have to deal with it or else _this_ happens."

Donnie planted himself back in his chair.

"Oh, I don't think he'll be breaking bones again anytime soon," he said. "He's in _deep _for this. You were probably too upset to notice, but Sensei is _pissed._"

* * *

Splinter held himself against the wall outside of his second son's bedroom door. It seemed like hours he had been standing there biding his time, hoping for a godsend solution as to how to approach his hot-tempered son.

It wasn't the first time in the past week or so that Raphael had been in trouble for his temper. In fact, it had been almost a daily occurrence; a new mishap for each day of the week, each one progressively getting worse as the week went by.

A new approach was definitely an order because what he'd been doing was clearly ineffective. Each time Raphael got into trouble that week, he'd been scolded and sent to his room, sometimes for several hours at a time. Regardless, he'd come back out calmed down, but once something rubbed him wrong, he'd be right back where he started: throwing tantrums, lashing out at his brothers, and disrespecting his father. But this time something _really_ needed to be done. This was not like the other day when he decided to challenge Leonardo's leadership during their training session, which ended in him attempting to attack him, or later on when he busted into Donatello's lab and smashed one of his newest inventions because he thought Donatello had called him a 'dumb-ass'. This time he brutally attacked and _injured _one of his own.

According to Casey, he had 'freaked out' because Michelangelo had taken a sarcastic tone with him, so he threatened him, and to his surprise, Michelangelo had punched him. It was seeming the pettier the reason for his anger, the more explosive Raphael's response would become. As a father, he knew he shouldn't encourage any of his sons to strike their brothers, but he'd seen first hand the degree to which Raphael could antagonize his brothers, particularly his pacifist of a son, Mikey. He could hardly suppress the tiny glimmer of pride he had in Michelangelo for taking up for himself for the first time in a while. Still, he made the mental note to briefly discuss his initial behavior with him later.

But a brief discussion with Michelangelo was the easy part and could wait to be addressed. The hardest part needed to be dealt with now. Raphael had gone too far. He allowed his pride and his anger, once again, to control him and put his loved ones in danger, and nothing his father did, it seemed, coerced him into using his self-control. Splinter had tried every means of grounding him that he could think of: extra training, extra chores, no patrolling, no television, no games, and no hanging out with Casey or April, none of which had any lasting effects.

There was one punishment, however, that he hadn't tried: switching. He shuddered to think of it. Surely, he had _spanked_ his sons on numerous occasions until they were as old as twelve or thirteen, but that was just a single, firm swat or two on their hindquarters with a belt or his own palm. Switching was like spanking on steroids. Switching was done with a blunt object and left welts and bruises, a fitting criterion for abuse, though not at the time that he was a child. In fact, he could very vividly remember his first and _last _switching.

* * *

Ten-year-old Yoshi sat there on a bench, an icepack over his eye that his school nurse had provided for him. The low murmuring voices of his mother and school principle behind the closed door to his left piqued his curiosity, though he was sure he already knew what was being said. No doubt his principal was telling his poor mother everything her trouble-making, short-tempered son had done to that 'poor' child. Of course he will leave out one important detail: he was defending his best friend's honor.

That no good punk, Daichi Akio, had called his best friend Saki a 'bastard', and teased him about his father walking out on their family, a subject that everyone knew was a touchy one for Oroku Saki. To Yoshi, Saki was like the brother he never had and always wanted, and that meant his pain and frustrations were his too, and _no one _spoke that way to his best friend and got away with it. So naturally, Yoshi and Saki pounded this kid. They pounded him _good._ The faculty had to send him home, and the principal, while he was yelling at them, had mentioned something about the boy going to the hospital.

Yoshi didn't care. He hoped he did have to go to the hospital, and hoped he'd felt every blow for a long, long time. Maybe that will teach him not to tease anyone Yoshi cared about.

The door beside him opened and his dreaded principal stood beside him, glaring.

"Yoshi, please step inside my office," he said.

Yoshi obeyed and walked into the office to find his mother standing beside the principal's desk, her hands planted on her hips and her dark eyes glaring into his with disappointment.

He stood before her and bowed his head submissively.

"Mother..."

It scared him that she said nothing, but he could still feel her intense stare on the back of his head.

"Yoshi," his principal began again, "your mother and I have been discussing your behavior."

"What is wrong with you Hamato Yoshi?!" his mother finally spoke. "You put that poor little boy in the hospital! And for what? For a few nasty words?"

"But mama," he argued, "he called Saki a 'bastard'! His papa left him and..."

"I am aware of the situation! What that boy said was wrong, but you know that two wrongs do not make a right. We have spoken about your temper before," she scolded.

"I know, mama, but..."

The principal cleared his throat. "Your mother and I decided, as punishment, you will be switched, but we agreed that she will be the one to do it."

Yoshi felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as the chills worked their way up his spine. He rose his gaze to check his mother's expression for confirmation. She nodded.

She picked up the bamboo stick that he hadn't realized was leaning against the desk.

"Turn around and put your hands on the desk, my son," she said.

"No, Mama," he pleaded, "please! I can control myself. I learned my lesson! Honest!"

"Turn around, Yoshi!"

On shaking legs, the boy turned and held his hands against the desk.

The bamboo made a sickening 'swish' in the air on his mother's back swing before it smacked against his backside. How many more times it made contact with him, he lost count.

* * *

Splinter hated to admit it, but the switching _had_ worked. Just like Raphael, he was prone to having a short temper when he was growing up and even well into his young adulthood, but through his mother's coercion, he never did get into another fight. At least not until _the _fight. The fight that, ironically, was against the one that he was defending in his previous fight as a child.

Splinter sighed and shook his head. He had to do it. He knew if he left marks on his son and reduced his son, a tough young man, to tears through his physical coercion, he may never forgive himself. But if he allowed his son to continue on this way, a danger to himself and his loved ones, he _knew _he could never forgive himself. He will have failed Raphael if that were to happen. After all, it is his role as the father to steer his sons in the right direction and take any means necessary to do so.

He knew what must be done.

He turned the heavy doorknob and pushed his way into Raphael's room. Dim darkness met his eyes, only lit modestly by the jack-o-lantern on the shelf above the bed. On that bed sat the shelled form, his head hanging and face hidden by two large, three-fingered hands.

"Raphael..."

Raphael did not respond.

Splinter approached the bed and stood over his son, waiting for him to acknowledge his presence. When he did not, he spoke again.

"Raphael, look at me, my son."

Raph sighed and looked up at his father to reveal a tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes. He stared into his father's brown eyes, deep with disappointment. Shame overwhelmed him. There was no wiggle room, no space to argue his case and defend his actions, and he knew his father did not even wish to hear him try. Shame forced his eyes to the floor.

"I-Is..." his voice cracked, he tried to swallow it back and talk smoothly. "Is M-Mikey...o-okay?"

Splinter took a deep breath. "His arm is broken. Why don't you tell me what lead you to do such a thing?"

Raph shook his head. "Mikey punched me in the mouth, and I-I guess...I guess I just lost it."

"And why did he punch you? Were you tormenting him?"

Raph nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"I-I mean, I guess. He was...he was mouthing off to me, and I was yelling at him and h-he..."

Splinter sighed. "Raphael...I don't know what I am going to do with you." He planted himself next to his son. "I have tried all I can imagine; I have given you extra chores, extra training, forbidding you from patrolling, watching television, playing games...I-I am...I am just at a loss."

Raphael hiccuped. "Y-you gotta k-kick me out, Sensei. I d-don't wanna hurt th-them."

Splinter was awestruck. His son _wanted _to be punished? Worse yet, he wanted to be cast out of his own home? Splinter was never a fan of kicking a child out when they became too out of control. To him that was just telling them to go elsewhere so the parent doesn't have to face the challenge and look at their own failure. Something he would not do.

"Kick you out? No, Raphael, that is out of the question."

Raph finally looked him in the eyes. "Y-you don't get it, S-Sensei. I-I don't w-wanna h-hurt anyone again. I already hurt Mikey and h-he'll probably never forgive me. I-It's not l-like I can go get pr-rofessional help. The o-only th-thing that can be d-done is for me to go away..."

"My son, if I send you away, then I have given up on you, failed you as a father. Something can be done. You have a good heart, Raphael, and I know that you love your family."

Raph hiccuped. "Tha-at's why I h-have to go..."

Splinter placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "That is why you have to stay. I believe that your heart is strong and the people that love you can and will help you. You will just have to try a little harder to control your anger." He sighed. "I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. That is what you do for the ones you love."

The smallest glimmer of a smile appeared on the turtle's face, but just as quickly vanished.

He sighed. "I guess I-I'm still in big trouble though, huh?"

Splinter's scowl deepened. "I have to punish you. After all, you seriously injured your brother. I cannot let that slide."

Raph cringed.

Splinter sighed. "I just...I don't know how to punish you at this point."

"Beat my ass," Raph mumbled.

Splinter's ears perked, unsure of what they had just heard.

"I beg your pardon?"

"U-um, I, I mean...beat my, uh, butt."

"No, my son, I mean...y-you want me to hit you?"

Raph looked back down and nervously shuffled his fingers.

"I mean, no, but...Sensei, I hurt him. My own little brother, who I'm supposed to protect, who's, sure a great fighter, but still smaller than me..." he sighed. "I deserve it. Maybe if I get my own ass...butt...beat by someone stronger than me that _I _look up to, I'll finally learn to control myself."

Splinter thought he'd made up his mind; he was going to switch that boy and just hope with everything that he is that he would learn from it, but he was expecting indifference. He was expecting Raphael to be defensive and try to justify his behavior. He was not expecting to confront his son sorrowful and mortified, humbly asking to be punished harshly for his misdoing. Now he was back to questioning the purpose of switching his son.

"There is logic in what you are suggesting," he hesitated, "but I am not sure that I can do it."

Raph shook his head. "You have to. I need to learn a lesson that even my anger won't let me forget."

Splinter thought again of his mother. How he wished she were here. She would have asked no questions, made no excuses. Before Raphael could even explain himself she would have busted a bamboo stick over that boy's hindquarters. No one would have time to protest, to try and make this dreaded decision. It would be done with no second guessing. Or she would hold him and tell him that all is forgiven because he is remorseful of what he'd done, shown that he has a heart in there strong enough to overcome a hot temper. She could do this as well with decisiveness and certainty. She was gifted that way, which Splinter knew he was not.

He sighed and looked pleadingly to the ceiling. "_Oh Mother, what do I do?_"

* * *

**I know I said April would come back this chapter, but I came up with a better idea. I really didn't want to, by any means, make this an anti-Raph story. After all, he's my second favorite turtle, and I've always wanted to right some Raph and Splinter fluff and I thought that this was an ample opportunity to do so. I'm curious what my readers think, though: do you guys think Raph should be switched (whooped with a bamboo stick)? Tell me what you think!**


	4. Fighting Off a Monster

Deep green eyes stared at Splinter with shame and anticipation. Splinter dared not meet the boy's gaze, for he knew if he did, his decision would instantly be swayed and he would be risking the proper punishment not being delivered. His family may remain in jeopardy.

He sighed. "I fear you may be right." He rose to his feet. "Wait for me in my quarters. I will be there in a moment."

Raph's gaze went to the floor. "Hai, Sensei."

Donatello sat beside a lightly dozing Michelangelo. They were now in Mikey's room, since Mikey was already tired. Donnie and Leo had agreed that it would be best if Mikey was comfortable for the worst part that was yet to come.

Donnie moved the icepack and examined the broken arm for the umpteenth time. Some of the swelling had temporarily gone down, which meant the part that he was dreading, setting the bone, was going to need to be done soon.

Leo sat at the foot of Mikey's bed, watching his youngest brother sleep. How could Raphael have done something like this? He kept asking himself. He knew as well as anyone that Mikey had a knack for grating on people's nerves, especially Raph's, but what could he have possibly done that would drive Raph to attack him and go as far as to break his arm? Donnie had told him Mikey's version of what had happened; Mikey had punched him after Raph provoked him. But Leo could recall countless occasions in which he had punched Raph, pretty hard too, and Raph certainly fought back, but never did he cause an injury as severe as a broken bone.

He couldn't help but to lean toward the conclusion that Raph liked to take advantage of Mikey's small size and usually passive nature. That's the only way he could explain the double standard in his mind. It was just unfair to him.

"I'm gonna have to set the bone soon," Donnie said. "I may need your help."

"Are you gonna do it while he's asleep?"

Donnie shook his head. "I'm gonna try, I guess, but he'll still wake up."

Leo cringed. "You don't think he'll cry again, do you?"

Leo hated the sight of any of his brothers, especially Mikey, crying. Mikey, at the risk of being cliché, was their family's ray of sunshine. Always laughing, smiling, or joking; he couldn't cry. The universe couldn't allow it anymore than it already had that day.

Donnie set the icepack on the bedside table while slowly and carefully bending Mikey's arm at the elbow, causing his relaxed hand to shift back and fourth on his wrist like a limp rag.

The movement must have jarred his break some because he flinched ever-so-slightly as he slept.

"We'll be lucky if he doesn't _scream_," Donnie replied. "You know he doesn't take pain well."

"Yes, we know," Splinter's voice suddenly became present from the doorway.

Donnie and Leo were startled.

"Did you talk to Raphael, Sensei?" Leo asked.

Splinter sighed involuntarily and glanced down at his feet for a moment. What would his other sons think if he did not punish Raphael seriously enough? All three of them were furious with their brother for his behavior. Surely, they were expecting him to be punished accordingly. If he let Raphael go with minimal punishments because of the degree of remorse in his eyes, his sons, not being parents themselves, may not understand and perceive his inaction as him undermining the situation. Worse yet, Michelangelo might come to think that his father is not concerned with his being bullied and attacked.

But hadn't he already decided that he was going to switch Raphael? He had come to agreement with himself that he was going to take a blunt stick of bamboo and thrash it against his son's bare flesh until he adorned an array of bruises and welts. It was the right thing to do. Sickeningly so.

Curious, yet stern blue eyes were still watching him, waiting for their appeasement.

This boy was a child. He was a man, a father. Why should he have to answer to him? He was the parent, Raphael was his son; he could handle this situation without Leonardo's input or approval. If he made a decision and his other sons questioned it, why should he care? They are not fathers. They do not know the hardships he is dealing with. How he handles their brother is none of their business.

"I have the situation under control, Leonardo," he said. "Don't worry about how I handle your brother."

Leo looked puzzled. "Um...alright."

Splinter breathed deep to regather himself to focus on the other issue at hand. He glanced at his sleeping son's bruised face, the bruises looking like dark clouds running from his beak and over half of his freckled cheek.

"I'm getting ready to set the bone, Sensei," Don informed.

Splinter cringed on the inside. He had seen his youngest son scream bloody-murder more than enough for a lifetime that day. He didn't think he could bear to watch him be practically tortured while his brother moved his tender, broken bone back in place.

"Do you need me to be present for that?"

Donatello glanced his way and could probably see the dread in his face, for he slowly shook his head.

"No. I think Leo and I have got it."

Splinter bowed. "Good then. I have things I must attend to." He rested a hand on Donnie's shoulder. "But please, my son, be careful with your brother."

Donnie gave him a wan grin. "Hai, Sensei."

It had been an accident. He just wasn't thinking, right? Raphael knew in some sense this was true. He had already been a little heated when Mikey had gotten smart with him, but after he punched him in the mouth, it all went pretty dark and he couldn't recall the light coming back on until he heard that sickening 'snap' and his brother's animalistic cry of agony.

His brother's screams still rang out in his mind. The last time he'd heard a cry like that come out of his youngest brother was when he was first practicing with his nunchucks. Why his father allowed an eight-year-old to swing nunchuks around, he still couldn't understand. He should have expected that he was going to whack himself in the face with them. The poor kid had a shiner and countless bruises from other nunchuck mishaps that made him look like he'd gotten his little ass beat.

This time he did get his ass beat. By someone that he should be able to trust. Every time he hurt Mikey even a little, he'd assure himself that next time he would remember that and refrain. Next time he would get control, but again, anger struck and all reason was forgotten. He needed a reminder he knew he couldn't forget, even if that reminder was painful and humiliating.

The sadder thing about all of this was that even the fond memories weren't strong enough to remind him that he loved his family and didn't want to hurt any of them. No memories of Mikey's consoling hugs, his caring for him when he was ill, cooking for him when he was hungry, or just trying to bring him up when he was feeling down were enough to stop him and make him realize, even in his most heated bouts of anger, that he did not want to hurt Michelangelo.

He had to wipe away another stray tear. How he wished he could just leave that room, barge into Mikey's, and squeeze him until he popped out of his shell. He wanted to cry into his shoulder and tell him he was so, so sorry for beating and humiliating him. For calling him all of those nasty, hateful things. And allow him to have a free shot right at his big, hard head. Maybe he could knock some out of place wires back in place if he hit him hard enough.

The shoji doors slid open and his stomach dropped. He told his father that he should receive no mercy and he was sure he would comply, however reluctantly. That, however, did not mean that he _wanted _an ass-beating.

The door slid shut behind his father. No escape now.

"Raphael," he began then sighed, "are you sure..."

Raph stood. "Yes. Please. I think I've been needing this for a long time."

Splinter placed a hand on each of Raph's shoulders. "You must know before I do this that I love you very much and I'm proud of you for taking responsibility for what you've done."

Raph's head dropped so as to hide his quivering lip and still weeping eyes.

He hiccuped. "I know, S-sensei."

Splinter retrieved a bamboo stick that stuck out from the large decorative vase in the corner of his bedroom. He turned solemnly to his son and gestured for him to go out into the dojo.

Raphael took one deep breath before he followed his father's instruction and exited the bedroom. This was it; his last hope. This was his last hope at getting his anger under control for the future, and he hoped with all of his being that it would prove worth it.

Splinter touched his shoulder and guided him to the wall nearest his shoji doors.

"Stand and face the wall, my son," he nearly whispered, his stern voice never laced with so much sorrow. "And please keep your hands to the wall. I don't want to hit them."

Raphael faced the concrete and firmly planted his hands there in front of him.

Splinter watched his son turn to the wall and submit; exposing himself to his full punishment, suddenly a shadow of the fiery young man he was. This was how much that boy loved his family.

With great reluctance, Splinter raised the stick and prepared to swing.

"Papa, I wan' snack!"

Splinter sighed. All of his three-year-old sons had been put down on the mat beside him to take a nap, but after only about thirty minutes, his second oldest, Raphael was wide awake and had lost all urges to rest. It seemed now that the only thing he was interested in was interrupting his father's peaceful meditation.

"Raphael, please," he said, "lie back down. You only just had lunch. You do not need a snack."

He did not have to hear Raph to know that he was going to do just the opposite. The 'sweet' pitter-patter of his little reptilian feet stormed their way in front of him.

Splinter cracked an eye open to find his son standing there with his arms crossed and giving him a death glare.

"Don't you give me that look, little boy," he scolded. "It is nap time. Maybe if you are good you may have one later on."

Raph stomped his foot. "Want one now!"

"Raphael," Splinter warned, "you keep your voice down. Your brothers are still sleeping."

Raphael continued with that pouty glare and glanced over at his snoozing brothers on the mat beside them.

"Give me snack or I wake dem up," he threatened.

Splinter was not quite sure he even heard him right. His three-year-old was giving him ultimatums?

"You will _not_ wake them and you will not get a snack, but you _will _lie back down," he ordered.

"No! Snack now!"

Splinter snarled, quickly becoming frustrated and losing his composure.

"Raphael, lie down _right now._"

Raph turned and made a beeline back for their little mat.

Splinter took a deep breath. Good. He was listening however reluctantly. He straightened his back again and relaxed himself again, ready to slip back into his meditative state.

"_Wake up! Wake up! Wake up, Mikey, Donnie, Leo! Wake up!_"

Protesting wines and groans were heard under Raphael's shouting and bouncing up and down.

Furious, Splinter rose to his feet and went straight for his most defiant son.

"Hamato Mamoru Raphael!" He shouted. "What did I tell you?!"

Raphael was not phased. He glared up at his towering father.

"Told you I want snack!"

Splinter knelt down and in one swift movement had snatched him by his arm and turned him over his knee. He smacked his hindquarters three times, Raphael screaming only after the first one.

Once he set him down, the look on the rebellious toddler's face made his temperature drop and his heart melt. His big green eyes were filled with tears and looking at him like he was a monster.

"P-papa-a!" he cried out.

Splinter swallowed the lump in his throat. Enough thinking. This needed to be done.

He pulled the bamboo over his head and with that dreaded 'swish', he brought it back down against his son's upper thigh. The sound of hollow wood against scaled flesh echoed.

Raphael tried hard to stifle a pained grunt, but Splinter had heard it. He was ready to drop the bamboo and be finished, but he couldn't. He couldn't let his boy down.

He brought it up and back down again.

This time the grunt was closer to a whimper. Splinter breathed in deep. This needed to be over with. So with one more slow back swing, he brought it down three more times in a hard, swift motion. By the end of those three Raphael had cried out.

Splinter had had more than enough. He let the bamboo tumble to the floor, turned his tearful boy around and took him into his arms.

"I am sorry, my son," he whispered. "I will not let you become a monster." He pecked his forehead. "I promise."

**So once again, I said April would be in this chapter, but she's not. I like keeping this descriptive and working out all these details. I want you guys to savor all of the emotions, thoughts, and conflicts of the characters, so I'm slowing it down more than I initially planned to. And thank you all for your kind reviews and comments!**


	5. Pizza Casserole

"**Hey Case. Im back in NY. Did I miss anything?"**

"**nothin much"**

"**Did you hang with the guys at all? :)"**

"**yea bout that..."**

"**Oh god what happened? -_-"**

"**raph and mike got in a fite yesterday and raph broke mikes arm"**

"**Oh no! Is Mikey ok? What happened?"**

"**idk and its a long story. I left b4 he cud get in trubl but I no he is. I havnt txtd any of em bc im waitin 4 stuff to cool down"**

April sighed down at her phone. She leaves the city for not even a week and the boys she considers to be her brothers half kill each other. She wondered what Mikey could have possibly done to make Raph go off on him so bad that he broke a bone. April had been a witness to and, even more times, played referee to their little wrestling matches, but never had she seen them escalate to a degree in which one of them came away injured.

She hoped that they weren't grounded and barred from having visitors. She had so many things to tell them. She couldn't wait to show them her pictures and share all the stories of her beloved grandmother, the only thing she had left of her mother. The boys always seemed eager to hear anything about her extended family. She couldn't help but to believe that that was because they never had an extended family of their own. It had always just been the four of them and their father, who, without question, loved them as much as any grandparent, aunt, uncle, or cousin could.

The boys, especially Mikey, were especially intrigued to hear about memories of her mother. They'd admitted numerous times to having imagined what it would have been like to have a mother in their life, something that always made the girl feel guilty for having mourned her mother in front of them. No matter how much the boys assured her that she had every right to mourn the loss of her own mother, she still couldn't shake the foreboding guilt she felt when she remembered how lucky she actually was for having a mother to love her at all, a lost loved one to even miss.

In spite of the always lingering guilt, however, she enjoyed sharing stories about her family with the ones that she practically considered her own surrogate family, and it never seemed to bring any of them down when she shared.

She made it to the front stoop of her aunt's townhouse and grinned at the door. She and her aunt often spoke few words to each other and her aunt rarely asked questions of where she was going or where she'd been, but that certainly did not undermine the appreciation she had for the beloved sister of her father. The woman, without any hesitation or second thoughts, had let her stay with her for as long as she needed to when her father first went missing. For nearly a year she had been living with her and never once had her aunt ever complained about her not having a job or staying out rather late with her friends. She always told her so long as she plans to stay in school, gets good grades, doesn't have sex and get pregnant, stays away from drugs, and is home by midnight, then she didn't have to work and could go out whenever she wanted.

Many would say that her aunt was careless and/or oblivious, but she knew this was not at all the case. Her aunt simply knew that she was the best behaved kid in their family and rightfully trusted her to make good choices.

Dragging her rolling yellow suitcase up the stairs, she pushed the front door open.

"I'm home!"

The house was still and dark. No one answered.

"Hello?"

She walked into the kitchen and flipped on the light. Once the room was illuminated, she immediately spotted a white sheet of paper lying in the middle of their kitchen counter. She picked it up and read it.

_April,_

_Sorry if I've missed you. I wanted to get you a welcome home gift, but I forgot to pick it up, so I had to go to the mall. I should be home by 8. _

_Love, Me :)_

April sighed. "It's the twenty-first century. Why couldn't you just text me?"

She crumbled up the note and tossed it across the room into the trashcan. She then pulled her phone from her pocket and decided to reply to Casey's last text.

"**Ok**"

She wondered if she should try to text or call any of the guys. Would they even answer? What if they were all in trouble and Splinter had taken their phones? She knew she could try to call Splinter on his cheese phone, but thought since it was really only for emergencies, it might not be appropriate.

She pulled up Donnie's contact and decided she would try and text him. Donnie was always very quick to respond to her texts, which she found rather strange since he was said to be so busy all of the time.

"**Hey D, Im back in NY. I heard wat happened btwn Mikey and Raph. R U guys in trouble?"**

She tucked her phone back in her pocket and drug her suitcase up the stairs. By the time she made it to the top, her phone was already vibrating in her pocket. Surely that couldn't be Donnie already.

As she walked through her bedroom door, she glanced down at her screen and sure enough it was Donnie's reply.

"How does he text so fast?"

"**Just Raph. Everyone is pretty down over what happened. Especially Mikey.**"

April frowned at that. Casey never did give her any clue as to how Mikey was doing since he'd been injured. Mikey almost always bounced right back to his upbeat self after any fight with his brothers. It saddened her to think of him all wrapped up and depressed, looking every bit like a teddy bear with a rip in it.

"**Aww, is he alright? I wud like to come see u guys."**

She opened her suitcase and lifted a neatly folded paper bag out. She smiled. This was sure to cheer Mikey up. The bag was full of recipes that her grandmother had sent home with her. Mikey loved to cook even more than he loved martial arts, and April loved to teach him new ways to do it. She had never had a younger sibling to teach things to and Mikey had never had access to ingredients to cook proper food.

"**You should! You could certainly lift everyone's spirits!"**

April smiled at the text on her screen. What those turtles saw in her, she still couldn't quite understand. It had been her understanding that they were _her _light, not the other way around. As long as she'd known them, they had been taking care of her, making her feel better when she was down about her dad, having been orphaned in a sense, and always making her laugh and saving her butt. Nonetheless, it was refreshing to hear that she had successfully returned the favor.

"**Ok. I'll be there in a few."**

* * *

Donatello smiled down at his phone. Finally April was back in New York and the first thing she was going to do was come and see _him_. Well, maybe not just him, but he and his brothers. His heart fluttered at that thought; he was important to her. He was of relevance to someone as beautiful and amazing as April O'Neil. No matter how many times she had demonstrated this, it never failed to amaze him.

He closed his laptop and exited his lab. There in the main room, Mikey sat on their giant couch watching television blankly. Donnie wondered if he was even really paying attention at all judging by his expressionless face.

"Hey Mikey," he came to his brothers side displaying a wan grin.

Mikey looked up and gave him the smallest of smiles.

"What's up, Don?"

"April just texted me. She's home now and she's on her way over," he said.

Mikey's face lit up, but it quickly dimmed. "Do we have to tell her about..." he wiggled his arm hanging in the homemade sling, "...this?"

Donnie rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, uh, apparently she already knows. Casey must have told her."

Mikey sighed.

Donnie planted himself beside Mikey and offered another encouraging grin.

"That was actually why she texted me in the first place. She seemed pretty worried," he explained. "And she missed us and couldn't wait to see us."

Mikey smiled again. "Well, I missed her too." He stood and turned off the television. "Is she coming now?"

"Right now," Donnie nodded.

"Sweet!" Mikey started to fist pump with his broken arm and instantly regretted it. He whimpered. "Ow..."

Donnie grasped his shoulder. "Easy, bro."

* * *

Raph shut his cracked door, having heard Donnie and Mikey's conversation. So, April was coming over. Another person who could be disappointed in him and he knew that she would be. In fact, he was pretty sure Casey was too since he had not heard from him since the incident. He heard Casey tell him to stop and settle down multiple times while he went after and pummeled his little brother. He didn't know why he didn't just listen to him and go back to watching their game. Everything would have been fine if he had. He would not be his family's number one enemy, he wouldn't have needed to be switched, wouldn't have extra training, and wouldn't be grounded to his room to listen to nothing but the voice of his own self-loathing.

He threw himself down on his mattress and sighed. His muscles protested the jarring movement, being sore after the hours of hard training his father had forced him to do. Eighty push-ups, three-hundred crunches, and countless katas repeated. He pushed himself until it felt like his muscles were going to burst and split his shell. Now they felt like they were pulsating, every breath enough to send a surge of pain down his spine throughout his entire body. He kept saying a silent prayer that Splinter would be merciful and not make him clean up after dinner later, especially if April was going to be around. She didn't need to see him slaving around the lair like a maid.

Raph picked up his phone off of his bedside table, the one electronic thing that he was not forbidden from using. He stared at his home screen, a picture of an unmutated Spike chewing on a leaf. How he missed his little friend. Now would have been a great time to vent to the practically mute little reptile. He sighed. But once again, he'd allowed his angry tantrums to screw up his life. His best friend got mutated into a monster, corrupted by his rantings and ramblings about his family.

He brought up Casey's contact. Casey had entered his life just after Spike had left it. Now he had Casey to identify with and ease his loneliness. Casey was not like Spike though. Casey was a sentient human being; he was capable of higher reasoning and judgment and would not always side with Raphael. This time he knew that Casey wasn't on his side. If anything, Casey was probably furious with him after the way he'd acted toward his brother.

In spite of his tough-guy persona, Casey was a family-oriented young man. He lived only with his father, whom he had utmost respect for, and a little sister that he adored and protected like a priceless little jewel. It was only natural that Casey would expect Raph or any of his friends to treat their own family in the same way, and after seeing yesterday's display, he had to be disgusted with him.

Raph pressed the button to compose a new message and thought of what to say.

"**Hey"**

That was all that he could come up with and a reply was all he needed. Guys didn't usually fight with each other in text messages. If Casey was mad at him, he would most likely say nothing.

He stared at the screen and waited. Sure enough, in a surprisingly short amount of time, the message notification came up on his phone.

"**wats up dude"**

Raph finally released a breath.

* * *

April pushed through the turnstiles.

"Guys, I'm here!"

"APRIL!"

Mikey popped in the main room from the kitchen, grinning from ear-to-ear as he approached her in a rushing pace.

April's gaze went straight to his arm hanging in the sling.

"Hey, Mikey!"

"Sorry I can't run to ya," he explained, "my arm is pretty sore and it hurts to move too fast."

He finally reached her and wrapped his good arm around her before nuzzling into the crook of her neck. He always hugged her this way and anyone who didn't know them would think they were dating. But this was Mikey, sweet Michelangelo, and his hugs were filled with nothing but pure, innocent affection for his dear friend.

"That's okay, buddy," she said, wrapping both arms around his shell. She squeezed him tighter. "It's so good to see you. I missed you guys."

Mikey pulled from the embrace and grinned at her. "Oh girl, you have no idea. We've been going crazy around here without you!"

When she smiled back to him is when she finally noticed that his beak was pretty swollen and puffy-looking. Her smile faltered.

"I can see that," she rested a hand on his shoulder. "I heard you and Raph got into a nasty spat yesterday. How are you feeling?"

Mikey stared down at his feet. "W-well, it was kinda my fault..."

"It was _not _your fault Mikey," Leo's voice came as he exited from the dojo. "You had every right to deck Raph in the face. He was bullying you." He grinned at April. "Welcome back, April. How was your trip?"

April's smile returned. "Oh, it was great! I have so much to tell you guys!" She looked to Mikey. "And you. I got a surprise for you."

Mikey's face lit up. "You do?"

"Come with me to the kitchen," she said and gestured for him to follow her.

She set the brown bag in her hands on the counter.

"I hope you weren't already making dinner because I got some stuff for this recipe that I know you'll love."

Mikey practically hopped up and down where he stood.

"What? What is it?!"

She began to unload the ingredients: pepperoni, pizza sauce, sausage, cheese...

"It's called pizza casserole. My grandmother showed it to me and I immediately thought of you."

Mikey's pupils enlarged to twice their size in an instant and his jaw dropped.

"P-pizza casserole? Oh my god, that sounds amazing!" he screeched. "I can't wait! What do we do first?"

April picked up the box of bow tie pasta and handed it to him.

"Well, first, I need you to get some water boiling and then cook the pasta for me," she said. "You remember how to tell when the pasta is ready, right?"

Mikey gave her a thumbs up and then took the box.

"Can do!"

She got a pan out from under the cabinet and opened the package of ground sausage.

"Let me know if you need any help with that too," she said. "I don't want you to hurt yourself trying to cook with a broken arm." She put the pan on the stove top, oiled it, and turned on the burner. "By the way, are you gonna tell me what went down between you and Raph while I was gone?"

Mikey sighed while dumping a cup of water into a pot.

"Well, he..."

"April! You're here!"

April and Mikey turned to see Donnie enter the kitchen with a delighted gap-toothed grin.

"Hey Donnie," she greeted and met him halfway with a hug. "You're just in time. We're making pizza casserole."

"Pizza casserole? That' new."

April nodded as she returned to the heating pan.

"I learned it from my grandmother," she said. "I couldn't wait to show it to you guys."

Mikey turned and grinned to his brother. "Isn't she sweet?"

Donnie blushed. "Yeah," he squeaked, "sh-she sure is."

April put the sausage in the pan and returned her attention to Mikey.

"Anyway, Mikey, you were saying?"

He sighed. "He got mad at me and started threatening me, so I punched him. That made him madder so he attacked me and twisted my arm 'til it broke."

April could easily sense that he didn't really wanna talk about it. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn, giving her an ever-brief explanation. She could also pick up the shame dripping from every word that he spoke.

"Aww, well I'm sorry. We don't have to keep talking about it if you don't want."

Mikey said nothing as he left the stove and looked at the other ingredients on the counter. After a moment, he turned back to her with a wan grin.

"How about we talk about your trip?"

Donnie took a seat at one of the bar stools.

"Yeah," he chimed in, "did you have fun?"

April stirred the ground sausage around in the pot.

"It's always a pleasure to see my grandma," she said. "We cooked together, had a picnic at the park, went shopping, and could just talk for hours."

Mikey smiled. "What's she like? Is she all short, cute, and sassy with silver hair?"

April laughed. "No, Mikey. Actually she looks a lot like my mom. She's got light brown hair and beautiful blue eyes."

"She sounds beautiful," Donnie added.

"She is. She's amazing. When I was little, she used to take me to McDonald's every weekend and let me play in the little fun center. That was back when she lived in the city."

Mikey's eyes widened. "_Every _weekend. Wow, that's amazing. Splinter would take us to the park late at night every once in a blue moon when we were little. Remember that, Donnie?"

Donnie nodded. "Oh yeah, good times. Too bad we could never stay long."

April chuckled. "And we used to do this thing where I would go to the top of the fort and she would throw french fries at me and I'd try to catch them in my mouth."

Mikey laughed at the mental image of a tinier version of April hopping around like a puppy trying to catch airborne french fries.

"Now, what exactly _is _a grandma?" Mikey asked.

April dropped the fork that she was using and looked at the turtle with disbelief.

Donnie sighed. "Mikey, don't be dumb, you know what a grandmother is."

Mikey shrugged. "No, I really don't. I mean, I know it's an old person you hang out with, but like...how do you know them? Do you meet them somewhere? Like on Craig's list?"

April shot Donnie an uncertain look, searching for any indication as to whether Mikey was being serious or was just pulling her leg. Could he really not know what a grandparent was?

Donnie cleared his throat. "Mikey, a grandmother is the mother of a parent."

"Oh, so your grandmother is like your dad's mom?" Mikey asked.

April shook her head. "No, she's my mom's mom, but I have another grandmother who is my dad's mom."

Mikey gasped. "So you mean you have _two _grandmothers?"

April nodded.

"So...Splinter obviously has a mom, so does that mean that we _do_ have a grandma?"

"Well, technically, yeah, but..."

"Wow," Mikey mused, "I wonder what she was like..."

To think that one could actually have a legitimate relationship with the parents of their own parents. It'd be like having up to six parents to love you. Mikey thought that one's heart could just burst at all the care and affection to exchange among so many.

"Hasn't Sensei ever told you about her?" April asked.

Mikey shook his head. "I don't think so."

Donnie scratched his head. "Come to think of it...no, Splinter doesn't talk about his mother much at all."

Mikey dumped the pasta into the now boiling water.

"Well, we're just gonna have to fix that then."

* * *

**Not much action in this one, I know, but I thought this chapter would be a good way to build up to the good stuff. But hey, I finally brought in April like I was supposed to do two chapters ago!**


	6. Dangling Carrots

_Feel better Mikey, love April_

Mikey gawked at the message written in bright red Sharpie on his cast.

"Whoa. This is what you wanted to show me? I love it!"

April capped the Sharpie and set it back on the counter.

"Yup. Friends do this all the time when one of them gets hurt," she explained. "It's a nice gesture to let them know that you care."

Mikey was delighted. This girl from outside of his family cared so much for him. No familial obligations bound her to him and yet she somehow showed her care for him without modesty.

"Well I feel better already!"

"Mmm, something smells delicious," Leo drew both of their attention upon entering the kitchen. "What did you guys make?"

"Pizza casserole! April showed me how."

"Pizza casserole?" Splinter said. "That is new. Is it ready?"

Mikey went to the upper cabinet to fetch a stack of plates.

"Uh-huh. I'll get everyone's plates ready."

"Wonderful," Splinter said and turned to leave, "I will go get Raphael."

April opened the silverware drawer and retrieved six forks.

"Oh yeah, speaking of Raph," she said, "how are you guys? Are you on speaking terms?"

Mikey shrugged. "Sorta..."

"I'm not speaking to him," Leo interjected as he pulled out his chair and took a seat at their table. "What he did was unforgivable."

Mikey began spooning casserole onto one of the plates. He sighed.

"I don't know. He seems like he feels really bad-"

"And he should," Donnie added as he too entered the kitchen and took his seat beside Leo. "There's no excuse for that behavior."

Mikey placed a plate in front of each of his brothers.

"I guess..."

April noted Mikey's sudden withdraw. She had to assume that was because he had mixed feelings about the incident. Dear Mikey had always been one to want to preserve the peace, even if that meant that he may have to shut his mouth when he should be able to speak up. One day he was going to regret that, she thought.

Leo noticed the bright red writing on Mikey's cast when he set his plate in front of him. He pointed at the hanging arm.

"What's this?"

Mikey beamed. "Oh, April signed my cast for me. Wasn't that nice?"

"Hmm," Donnie said, "I never thought to do that."

"Do what?"

All heads turned to see Raphael enter the kitchen with Splinter following just behind him. Leo snarled and turned his attention back to his plate and Donnie pretended to clear his throat. Mikey set down the final plate at the table and gave his guilty brother a wan grin.

"We're talking about April signing my cast," he said before taking his seat. He looked around to the rest of his family. "Do you guys wanna sign it?"

Leo shrugged. "Maybe later."

"Yeah, maybe later, bro," Donnie replied.

Raph quietly took his seat across from Mikey.

Mikey thought about asking him the same thing, but wondered, almost feared, how he might respond to that. What if Raph took it as blame? After all, it was his fault that his arm was in that sling in the first place, but he wanted the request to come out pure and not snark and spiteful. That's what got him here in the first place.

"How was your trip, April?" Raph asked.

Mikey felt some relief at the change of the subject.

April grinned. "It was wonderful. In fact, I learned this recipe from my grandma and couldn't wait to share it with you guys."

"Well, we are very appreciative, my dear," Splinter nodded at her. "We are always eager to try new things."

Mikey looked to his father and remembered his earlier conversation with April. He had a mother, right? That's what April said a grandmother was; the mother of a parent. It's not that Splinter had never spoken of a mother or told stories of his own childhood, it's just that he never really described her. He only mentioned her presence. Mikey wanted to know her.

"Sensei," he began, "how come you never told us about our grandma?"

Splinter looked as if he were about to choke on his food. He had never heard any of his boys speak of a grandmother before.

He cleared his throat and looked to his youngest boy. "Well, you do not exactly have a grandmother, my son."

The hopeful glimmer in the boy's eye vanished to make for a pitiful look of sadness.

"W-well, you're our father a-and you have to have a mom, right?"

Splinter felt a sudden wave of guilt for his previous response. He hoped that he did not let onto his boys that he did not fully consider himself as their true father. Of course he did. He had simply not realized that Michelangelo literally meant his own mother and not simply a grandmother figure.

He gave a reassuring smile, hoping that would correct the potentially hurtful misunderstanding.

"Oh, you mean to ask why I have not spoken much of my own mother as your grandmother?"

Mikey nodded.

"Come to think of it," Leo added, "you never really have told us much about your own parents."

Splinter knew well that this was true, and it was not necessarily unintentional either. As often as he thought of her, when he rarely spoke of her to his sons, he purposely never referred to her as their grandmother or soba for the same reason he never referred to Tang Shen as their mother or Miwa as their sister. His sons need not miss someone that they never knew. To them, that would be like hanging all of the other things that he could never give them over their little heads, constantly reminding them of what they never had and never could have. It just seemed cruel. That's what he had thought, anyway. Now, they are asking why he never spoke of them that way, leaving him to wonder if he had been doing it wrong all of these years.

"I...did not know that you had wondered," he explained.

Mikey beamed. "What was she like? Was she pretty?"

Splinter grinned nostalgically. "Yes, she was beautiful. A wonderful woman. She would have loved you boys. She loved Miwa."

Mikey knew that should have delighted him, but he doubted that. Miwa was a beautiful human baby, her _real _granddaughter. If she were ever to have met him and his brothers, the poor woman would have had a heart attack. Even if Splinter were human and they were still mutants, the chances of any of his family members accepting them as they would a blood relative were slim. Splinter was special. People like him were few and far between.

"There are times," Splinter paused and sighed sadly. "There are times when I wish she were still around. I was a child very much like you, Raphael. I was a hot-tempered child as well and I was able to overcome that with her guidance."

Leo snorted. "There is no way you were ever as bad as Raph."

Raph shot him a death glare.

"Oh, but I was. Maybe worse. When I was a boy, I put another boy in the hospital for calling Oroku Saki a bad name."

Mikey's jaw dropped. "Whoa. How old were you?"

"I was about eight or nine. I was in a lot of trouble too. My mother switched me right there in the principal's office. I never fought that way again. Well, not until..."

Donnie snickered. "And Raph got switched right there in the dojo."

Splinter gave him a silencing glare. "Donatello, it is not funny. Switching is not a joke."

Donnie bowed. "Hai, Sensei."

April, meanwhile, could barely fathom the situation. Raph got switched? He may have been smaller than Splinter, but he was still a big boy. It was just a strange image to see him being beaten almost like a small child. She thought about asking for more details to clarify, but thought better of it since she knew that Raph would likely not appreciate it.

"Well, I already knew that she was a spanker," Mikey continued, "you've told us that before, but you never told us what kind of person she was. Like...did she have a good sense of humor or was she more stern and serious?"

"She had a fair balance between the two. She could be silly and sweet, but she was serious a lot of the time as well," Splinter explained.

Mikey grinned. "Like you!"

Splinter cocked an eyebrow. "Like me?"

Mikey nodded. "Uh-huh, you're like that."

"It's true," Raph piped up.

Splinter glanced at Raphael and caught the slightest bit of a nostalgic grin. He couldn't help but to ruffle the top of his head.

"What did she look like?" Mikey asked.

Splinter recalled her image. A short, somewhat stocky woman with her dark hair usually cut about chin length, and her brown eyes a fervent light amber. He could see her as plain as day in his mind, but much to his own guilt, he could not bring himself to describe her. There was one thing, though, that he knew he could identify in words.

"Karai," he cringed lightly. It sickened him to refer to her by the name that his enemy had crudely given to her in place of the name that he and his wife had given her. "_Miwa _has her eyes."

"Aww," April cooed.

"And what was her name?"

"Mikey," Leo scolded, "stop it. He probably doesn't want to talk about it."

"No, no, my sons. It is fine. Please, never be afraid to ask me about my..._our _family. I am more than happy to share with you." Splinter took in a quick breath before continuing. "Her name was Hamato Sayuri. Unfortunately, I do not know how to describe her appearance. It has been sixteen years since I have seen her."

"So...she was still around when..." Mikey wasn't sure how to finish that sentence lightly. "...when you came here."

Splinter nodded. "Yes."

"Do you think she's still alive now?"

Leo popped him on the back of the head.

Mikey shrugged. "It was a legitimate question."

Splinter sighed. "I do not know, Michelangelo...but unfortunately, it does not matter. She would not know me this way."

Mikey frowned as he watched his father rise from his chair with his now empty plate.

"I am going to meditate now," he said. "We may talk about this again another time if you wish."

Mikey nodded once. "Hai, Sensei. Thank you."

Splinter placed his plate in the sink and then went toward the curtain separating the kitchen from the main room.

"And Raphael, please do not forget that you are to clean the kitchen once everyone has finished," he said.

Raph sighed. "Hai, Sensei."

Once Splinter was gone three sets of eyes glared at Michelangelo.

Mikey was confused. "What? What did I do?"

"Way to go," Raph grouched. "He's probably gonna be all depressed now."

"Yeah Mikey," Leo chimed in. "You know Sensei doesn't like to talk about his family with us. It just...it breaks his heart."

Mikey looked guilty. He never meant to hurt his father. He just wished to know about the family that he never got to know. Even if he could never meet them, just to be able to paint a mental picture of them, to dream about them, would be enough to fulfill his need.

"I...I didn't wanna, like, hurt him. I just wanted to know what she was like."

Raph shook his head. He almost looked disgusted.

"Look, we get it, dude. I get it. You're curious, but are the answers worth upsetting Sensei?"

Mikey began to wonder again. Was he being selfish? Sensei held all the reference and materials he needed to create the image of her, but was he killing him slowly by shaking him down for them?

He sighed. "No, I guess not...I just really wanted to know about our family."

"_His _family, Mikey," Leo corrected. "They're his family, not ours."

"I'm afraid Leo's right, Mikey," Donnie added. "If any of Splinter's family ever met us, they'd never accept us."

Mikey sighed. "Yeah..."

* * *

"She is a beautiful baby, Yoshi."

"Thank you, mother."

Yoshi watched his mother as she absorbed every bit of the tiny form in her arms through those warm amber eyes.

"She looks just like her mama," she said.

Yoshi smiled. She did indeed.

"How does it feel to be a grandmother?"

She grinned wickedly. "Grandmother? I am no grandmother. This...this is _my_ baby girl."

He laughed. "I am sorry, mother, but you have had your chance. But on the bright side, you get to be the one to spoil her."

Sayuri bounced the sleeping infant lightly.

"Oh and believe that I will." She chuckled. "You must tell Tang Shen that I want many more grandbabies to spoil."

Yoshi chuckled. "We will see in time. For now, we will just stick with this little one."

He peered over his mother shoulder to get a glimpse of his beautiful girl, but it was not Miwa that he saw. In his mother's arms was a tiny, turtle-like creature. Bright blue eyes stared back at him with a constellation of freckles on each cheek.

As if in slow motion, his mother shrieked and released the tiny creature in her arms.

Yoshi hastily caught the child before it could smack against the ground, only to be met with another ear-shattering shriek.

"W-what are you?!"

When he looked down at the baby in his arms, he then noticed that he was covered in fur and his hands were now long four-fingered paws.

"Get away from me! Get away! You freak!"

* * *

Yoshi was startled from his meditative trance. It wasn't real. His mother had not really seen him this way, nor spoken those words to him or any of his boys. She hadn't rejected them.

He finally caught his breath, and though he had begun to calm, the questions and thoughts still burned in his mind. Had he done the right thing? Michelangelo wished to know about her, and that was certainly no crime, but if he continued to feed his curiosity, would he be dooming him to heartache and grief? He feared that his son would begin to miss her, to crave a grandmother's affection, something that the boy will never be able to have.

Too many times in his sons' lives he had tried to protect them from hurt that often showed that it might be inevitable. Yoshi found that he never really could accept this. There had to be a right answer, a right way to do this. There had to be a way to keep his boys safe from harm.

* * *

His mother. He didn't know what became of her – hasn't seen her in sixteen years. The man who saved his life, raised him, fed him, and sheltered him, not because he had to, but because he wanted to, had not seen the woman who had done the same for him in sixteen years. Mikey found this unfathomable – just wrong. Splinter deserved that. He deserved to have the loving support of a parent, or at least to know that she was still living.

He sighed. Then there was the mutant issue. Mikey could – and _would – _cross the United States and the Pacific Ocean just to go back to Splinter's hometown and find his long lost mother, but what would be the purpose? She would see this crazy mutant spouting nonsense about her supposedly deceased son, about how he turned into a giant rat and has been raising four mutant turtles in the New York City sewers, and think she was tripping out on meds or something.

Now if he were _human_...Mikey shook his head. He put it from his mind. No 'ifs'. He was a mutant turtle, not human. He could never actually face this woman and say that he was her grandson if that opportunity ever presented itself. If she were like most humans, she'd probably go into hysterics before he could even get a word in.

He sighed. His attention was grabbed by the sound of April typing on her laptop beside him. She was on myface, he could tell. He had had one before so that he could find Chris Bradford and become his friend, but after that all went wrong, he deleted it. What was the point of making online friends if he could never meet them in person?

"_Too bad there's no place for freaks to meet people so no one can see how hideous they are..._"

Wait. What if _she_ was on the internet? He could contact her and she would never know that he was a mutant. He could tell her about her son and how he's doing and what an amazing father he is, and she would never have to know that they were all freaks. It would be like having a cyber grandma. That was better than none, right?

He poked April's shoulder.

"April, I've got an idea," he whispered.

"Hmm?"

He leaned in and whispered his plan into her ear.

She hesitated. "I don't know, Mikey. I mean, what if you can't find her? Or you do and she doesn't believe you?"

Mikey considered this possibility. He sighed.

"Well, I've gotta try, and I need your help. Please help me. It would mean _SO_ much."

April closed her laptop and stood up.

"I'll do what I can. It's getting late though, so I've gotta head home."

Mikey leaped from the couch and wrapped her in bear hug.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Oh, you're the best friend ever!"

April chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, but it's gonna take some time, okay?"

Mikey shrugged. "I figured that. But hey, please don't tell anyone else, okay? I don't want anyone to try to talk me out of it." He held out his pinky for her to hook onto. "Pinky-swear."

April wrapped her pinky around his. "Alright, I pinky-swear."

* * *

Mikey woke from a deep sleep. He could have sworn he heard his bedroom door swing shut. Had someone been in his room?

"Hello?" he whispered. "Is somebody in here?"

He strained his eyes to see in the darkness, but couldn't see anything. Instead he sat up to turn on his lamp on the bedside table, but just as the blankets shifted, he heard something hit the floor.

He looked down. It was a red Sharpie. He remembered that April had used that marker to sign his cast. He glanced down at the cast, but he was surprised to find a new message.

"_Sorry bro, love, Raph_"

**I feel sort of eh about this chapter. I hope you guys feel better about it. I just can't figure out how to make this particular one much better.**


	7. Decisive

Raphael's phone vibrated on his bedside table, shaking his attention from the book in his hands. He pulled the homemade bookmark from the back of the book and slid it in on his current page.

He saw the notification was a text from Casey.

"**Dude r u still in trubl im bord"**

Raph sighed. It was only his third day of being grounded to his bedroom, but it felt like it had been months. Hour after hour he had been forced to remain in that musty, desolate bedroom with nothing to do but read, count the cracks in the cinder block walls, and wait for what seemed like forever for meals. If there was a hell, Raph was sure he had died and gone there.

"**Yea still in trouble sry man."**

If there was ever time that Raph saw his best buddy as saintly, it was now. After the stupid way he had acted that night, Casey so easily forgave him, whereas he could tell everyone else was still heated. He knew that was because, though he did not agree with the behavior, he understood it.

Casey has a younger sibling of his own, a little sister. He also has anger issues of his own. Raph remembered Casey telling him the story of when he lost his temper and broke his little sister's nose. He wasn't sure what it supposed to have been about – Casey was not the most detailed story teller in text messages – but he had been grounded for two months during which he wallowed in his own self-loathing for what he'd done.

Raph thought, though he never said aloud, that Casey's incident sounded worse than his. After all, he hit a little _girl_ in the _face_. Raph had, sure hit someone smaller than him, but Mikey still had a better chance to defend himself than a little girl. Still, he reminded himself that he does not have a little sister, or any sister for that matter, so he was not in any position to judge. After all, could a sister be any less irritating than a brother?

"**cant u just suck up to ur pop to let u off"**

Raph rolled his eyes. If only Casey really knew how difficult Splinter was to sway, at least for him. Leonardo was the only one who could get a desired effect from "sucking up". The other two used tactics of their own. Donnie used his persuasive nerd talk until he got Splinter on his side, and Mikey...Mikey didn't have to do anything. Sensei just babied him and gave him whatever he wanted. He couldn't ever recall a time when Mikey stayed grounded for more than a week before Splinter just let him off.

He growled. It didn't matter what he did right. Splinter was not going to listen to him.

"**u can still come over u kno. We just cant hang out. Mikey or leo wud hang with u."**

Actually, he was not sure about Leo. Sure, Leo liked Casey, but his stupid older brother could be so damned dull at times that he probably wouldn't feel like doing anything except meditate, train, or maybe watch television. Mikey, though, he was sure would want to hang out with Casey no matter what he was doing. After all, Mikey would always rather hang with someone than train or meditate or whatever.

_Knock knock!_

"Come in," Raph mumbled.

"Uh, could you get it?" Mikey's voice came from the other side. "I don't have a free arm, dude."

Raph had not expected it to be Mikey. He was fairly certain the only one in their home who would have any desire to speak with him would be Splinter.

Without a word, he pulled himself from his bed and opened the door.

Mikey stood in his doorway hugging Donnie's laptop to his chest with his uninjured arm. He greeted his big brother with a small grin.

"Hey Raph, can I show you something?"

Mikey _wanted_ to come in his room? He wasn't even sure that was allowed. Obviously, he wasn't allowed to have visitors, but his brother, also his victim, didn't count as a visitor, right?

"Uh, sure..."

Mikey entered and shut the door behind him. He went straight for the bed and sat down Indian style and once the laptop was secured in place on his lap, he opened it and began typing.

Raph decided it best to remain standing by the bed, feeling that he should not to sit too close to Mikey. It seemed now that there was now a barrier, like he was grounded from Mikey too.

Mikey looked up from the screen.

"So, I have this idea and I wanna know what you think," he said. He paused and looked at him expectantly. "You...you're gonna have to come and look, dude."

Raph crawled onto the bed and knelt beside Mikey. The first thing he noticed was that he had a MyFace page up.

"I thought you deleted your MyFace," he said.

Mikey shook his head. "I did, but I made a new one because I had an idea. I wanna run it by you." He took his eyes off of the screen to give Raph a serious look. "You gotta promise you won't tell Sensei, though."

Raph was already becoming skeptical. His first thought was that Mikey had an online girlfriend, something that he knew Splinter would never approve of. Something that he himself would never approve of and if it were happening, he wasn't totally sure that he could keep that a secret.

"That depends on what you're about to show me," he said.

Mikey sighed. "It's probably not at all what you're thinking. I don't have a cyber friend or anything. It's something for Sensei, so you gotta give me your word, dude."

Raph nodded once. "Alright, alright."

Mikey presented his pinky to him.

Raph rolled his eyes. That was such a little school girl thing to do. Nonetheless, he haphazardly hooked his pinky on Mikey's.

Mikey grinned to him and returned to the screen.

"Okay, so here's what's going on," he began. "I got April to help me find Splinter's mom. She sent me this page this morning and..."

"Whoa, wait. You went looking for Splinter's mom on the internet?"

Raph rolled his eyes. "Mikey, if she's even still _alive, _she's really old, and old people don't use the internet."

Mikey giggled. "Of course they do, bro. April told me that her grandma has a MyFace."

Raph shook his head. "That doesn't mean that Splinter's mom would, and like I said, for all we know, she could have already died."

Mikey's face only seemed to light up even brighter.

"Well you can't post a MyFace status if you're dead, can you?" He joked and carefully turned the screen toward Raph with one arm. "April found her."

There it was. The name Hamato Sayuri adorning an image of an elderly Japanese woman with long, graying locks of hair framing slanted amber hues and a half-hearted smile. Raph remained skeptical. It couldn't be that easy. It was too good to be true.

He shook his head. "How do you know that's even the right woman? There could be millions of Japanese women with that same name."

Mikey shrugged. "Well, there's only one way to find out. I have to talk to her."

Raph felt his disdain for the plan immediately rising. Even if that was really his father's long lost mother, what would it matter? She could never see them.

"Mikey, don't bother the poor woman. She's probably just gonna think your some creep who knows way too much."

Mikey's confidence didn't seem to falter.

"That's not possible, dude. I know things that only a family member could know." He closed the laptop. "Trust me, Raph. I know what I'm doing."

Raph just sighed. "Whatever, Mikey. Are you making dinner tonight?"

Mikey hopped down from the bed and went for the bedroom door.

"I don't know, maybe."

Raph grumbled an incoherent response and peaked at his phone again.

"**idk mike is gr8 but its not the same"**

Raph couldn't argue with that. It did not seem that the two had that much in common, even though Mikey was never one to be difficult to get along with. Casey trying to hang with him just seemed like it would be a painfully awkward experience.

"**youll have 2 wait til im ungrounded then"**

* * *

_Clank! Pleck!_

Young Yoshi's mind was shaken from it's occupation with the book in his plump hands. He already knew what the light 'clanking' sound against his bedroom window meant - his best friend was sneaking him a visit.

He closed the book and sighed. Saki seemed bent on getting him into more trouble than he was already in. The brutal beating of their obnoxious classmate had gotten Yoshi an indefinite amount of grounding.

Saki's mom, being forced to raise her son on her own, seldom had time to commit to a punishment. Yoshi found it rather surprising, in fact, that she had found the time in her busy schedule to come and get her wayward son from school when their principal had called her, and rescue him from an otherwise inevitable switching. She had come and assured the principal that she would take Saki home and punish him appropriately. It never happened. He was only scolded and warned not to do it again.

Yoshi could hardly cover his resentment for that. The two boys committed the wrong-doing together, for which Yoshi received welts and blisters on his hindquarters and near solitary confinement while his partner in crime merely got a warning. It hardly seemed fair, but it did him no good to complain about the injustice. His mother responded to his protests by declaring that she is not responsible for Saki, and Saki did nothing more than shrug and tell him to keep begging forgiveness.

He went to his window and slid it open.

"You shouldn't be here, Saki," he whispered. "You're gonna get me in more trouble."

Saki crossed his arms. "You're still grounded, huh?"

Yoshi fiddled with his fingers anxiously, praying silently that his mother wasn't outside hanging clothes on the line or tending her garden. Being caught talking to a visitor may earn him a whooping, something he couldn't bear to imagine with his still-sore posterior.

"Yes, I am. I still don't know for how long."

Saki shook his head, signaling his disapproval.

"Can't you just tell your mother like it is? You learned your lesson. You should be allowed off by now. My mother got over it days ago!"

Yoshi sighed. "It's not that easy. Mother's not acting mad with me, but she still won't unground me."

Saki lifted a leg into the windowsill and started to climb inside.

Yoshi grabbed his sleeve.

"Saki, no. You can't come in. If mother sees you-"

Against Yoshi's restraint, Saki stepped into the bedroom.

"Your mother won't see me. We'll play quietly and if we hear her coming, I'll just hide. We're ninjas, Yoshi. We can here your mother coming."

"Actually, father says we're not yet-"

"Blah, blah," Saki mocked, "do you _always _believe everything your parents say?"

Yoshi huffed. "No. That's what got me _here_."

"Your mother overreacting is what got you here."

Saki went to the toy chest in the corner and began to root around inside for something to play with.

"Now, what are we gonna play?"

Yoshi shut the toy chest and scowled at his best friend.

"Nothing. You have to go, Saki. I don't need to be in anymore trouble."

Saki stood to face Yoshi. "I told you," he began, "we won't get caught."

"Do I have to show you my behind? I don't need to get whooped again. You might get off easy at your house, but my mother won't tolerate it."

"_Yoshi-kun!"_

Yoshi was sure fate was playing a cruel joke on him with such irony – his mother calling for him and certainly coming toward his bedroom while his forbidden visitor, or more so, intruder, was there.

"I'll hide," Saki declared and went for the closet, but Yoshi caught him by the sleeve.

"No, Saki, you have to leave!" He demanded. "I'm not getting in trouble again. Please, leave!"

Saki sighed with over-dramatized exasperation.

"Fine, I'll leave."

And he did just what he said.

Before Saki could utter a 'goodbye', Yoshi had hastily shut his window and returned to reading his book, sitting Indian-style on the floor.

A half of a second later, his mother entered greeting him with a delighted half-smile.

"You have been so quiet, my son," she declared warmly.

Yoshi shrugged modestly.

She entered the room, shutting the door behind her.

"I would like to speak with you." She sat down across from her son and rested a firm hand on his knee. "I am very proud of you, Yoshi, for taking your punishment like a humble and obedient young man."

Yoshi bowed. "Hai, mother."

He respectfully kept his gaze down for what felt to him like a long time, but when he heard no further response, he curiously looked up and saw a fervent glisten in his mother's amber eyes. He fought to maintain his modesty, but could not fight the small smile that pushed its way through. She was proud of him, and it warmed him deeply.

She reached out and cupped his chin in her hand.

"I think you have been punished enough, hm?"

Yoshi forced his stone-faced expression to return and he again dropped his eyes for the best measure possible.

"Yes, mother. Fighting is for the dojo and for self-defense only."

"Then I think you had better go and catch your friend, my sweet."

Yoshi looked at her again, stunned. She had heard them?

She gave him a sly grin and pecked him on the forehead.

"I am proud of you, Yoshi-kun."

* * *

His beloved mother had been so wise and decisive. Somehow she could tell when her boy had been punished enough. His situation was quite different. How could he tell that Raphael had learned and be sure that he would not again harm his own?

Raphael had only been grounded to his room for three days and so far he seemed compliant and cooperative with his punishment. He had done the dishes every night with little complaint, had not snuck out of his room, completed his extra training sessions, and had not once asked to be let off.

Most importantly to him, he was remorseful. Michelangelo had shown them all the brief apology that his brother had written on his cast that morning at breakfast. Raphael probably had hoped that Michelangelo would silently accept the apology, but should have known that his youngest brother was not one of subtlety. He promptly gave his brother a forgiving embrace in front of all of their family as soon as he saw him that morning.

Raphael was modest, having said little, but Splinter could see that that forgiveness meant the world to him. Perhaps if the peace was mutual, then it was time to lift the punishment.

Familiar footfalls approached Splinter. Footfalls by now he recognized to belong to his youngest boy. Michelangelo always had a swift, energetic, but lightweight stride, something that usually worked in his favor in combat and training sessions.

The steps grew nearer and nearer and suddenly came to a stop to where the rat knew was directly beside him.

"Sensei?"

He did not open his eyes. "Yes, Michelangelo?"

Splinter expected his exuberant son to ask a brief question of some kind, possibly to ask permission for something, but when he heard him plant himself on the rug beside him, he sensed that his son must have wanted to speak about something more trivial.

He opened his eyes to inspect his expression. Michelangelo was staring thoughtfully down at his hands in his lap, appearing to be searching for the right words.

"Is something the matter, my son?"

"Well," he hesitated, "I've been thinking...about what we talked about last night. At dinner."

Splinter very much recalled the said discussion. It had, in truth, been nearly all that he had thought about and he had at some points wondered if it had struck Michelangelo as deeply as it had himself.

"About my mother?"

Mikey nodded. "I-I was wondering, you know, with today's technology, what you would think if we tried to find her?"

Splinter cocked one eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Mikey finally looked up from his fidgeting hands and locked eyes with his father.

"What if I could find her, like, on the internet and contacted her?"

His son contacting his mother from behind a computer screen? He wondered what his mother would think if a random young boy contacted her claiming to be her long lost son's adopted child living in America. She'd probably think it to be some cruel joke, but what would explain the knowledge this so-called cruel stranger possessed of her supposedly late son? Michelangelo could surely prove his credibility as the son of her own son, knowing things that only a close family member would know of him.

Credibility aside, Splinter knew she would certainly, like any mother, want to come to America to reunite with the child that she thought she had lost and meet the grandchildren she never knew she had. She would be in for the fight of a lifetime. She would never recognize her son and thus, never accept her grandsons. And what would she tell other humans? She could give them away, put them in danger.

He looked to his boy, his preciously naïve eyes waiting for his response.

"_Bright blue eyes stared back at him with a constellation of freckles on each cheek. _

_As if in slow motion, his mother shrieked and released the tiny creature in her arms. _

_Yoshi hastily caught the child before it could smack against the ground, only to be met with another ear-shattering shriek._

_"W-what are you?!"_

_When he looked down at the baby in his arms, he then noticed that he was covered in fur and his hands were now long four-fingered paws._

"_Get away from me! Get away! You freak!"_

He shook the thought. No. He could not let him know that hurt.

"My son," he began, "I know that your intentions are pure and well-meaning, but you must not do that."

Mikey's hopeful grin faltered. "How come?"

"It is simply not safe."

Splinter knew he'd be expecting too much to hope that that would be the end of the dreadful conversation.

"Sensei, I know you're scared that she won't accept you or us, but...well, what if we just eased her into it? What if we didn't tell her at first-"

Splinter shook his head briskly. "No. I would love to be in touch with my mother, but I cannot risk your safety. Your needs come before my own."

"But Sensei, this is my need too. It's _our need. _We need her presence."

Sensei sighed. "The risk too greatly outweighs the benefit, Michelangelo. No. I forbid you to do that."

Mikey couldn't lose this battle so easily. The benefits _did _outweigh risks. Surely, Sensei was being too careful and not thinking this proposition through enough.

"But Sensei, think about it. If she came here, she could set things straight. She could bring Miwa back to you."

Splinter felt frustration suddenly rise. How could Michelangelo dare to think that having his daughter back for himself was worth endangering his sons? He did not know how much more he could stress that nothing in the world was more important to him than his boys.

"Enough of this!"

Mikey was startled.

"None of that matters to me! You are not to contact her! Is that understood?"

Mikey was again staring at his hands, his confidence diminished.

"Hai, Sensei," his voice rasped. "I-I'm sorry. I d-didn't mean to upset you, father. I just thought..."

Splinter grasped the boy's shoulder.

"Your heart is in the right place, Michelangelo, but nothing is more important to me than you and your brothers. Please, it is not worth the risk."

Mikey solemnly bowed his head.

"Hai, Sensei."

* * *

It was so simple. He knew his father's history, and he knew he wanted to do this. He had long since decided, even if Splinter wasn't on board for it. He had the knowledge and the credibility and he had the drive, but his father's warnings argued with both factors.

_Just do it_. _Don't think about it._

His large fingers began to type. It was slow, about one word every twenty seconds, but it all poured out effortlessly. He already knew what he wanted to say to her.

_Dear Sayuri,_

_ In 1996, a 26-year-old man named Hamato Yoshi and his beloved wife had a beautiful baby girl. They named her Miwa. They were the happiest little family you'd ever see, but someone, a bitter soul, sought to take what was rightfully Yoshi's. Envy and bitterness consumed this soul and before Miwa turned one year, her parents perished and she disappeared at the hands of a monster._

_ A man came to reconstruct his life in a place called New York City. He lived a lonely life in a tiny apartment and taught martial arts just to barely get by. To ease his loneliness, he adopted four baby boys, all brothers, the youngest no older than 5 months old. Their names were Leonardo Osamu, Raphael Mamoru, Donatello Toshio, and Michelangelo Hiroyuki. He protected these boys like priceless jewels and taught them to effectively defend themselves. He even found a new, better job so he could work from home and home-school them. For fifteen years, he taught them, fed them, protected them, and cared for them, giving them support that only a loving parent could. Now one of his boys wants him to have the same like he ought to still have. _

_ My name is Hamato Hiroyuki Michelangelo and I'm 15 years old, but everyone calls me Mikey. I am your youngest grandson. I'm thrilled to have found you and would really love to get to know you. Yoshi, or pop, is doing well here in America, but I know he misses you. He has told us countless stories of our soba; how beautiful and warm you are. I hope to hear back from you, and I love you._

_Love,_

_Hamato Michelangelo_

_P.S. Can I call you baa-baa? :)_

SEND.


End file.
